


may my afterimage follow me home

by anonymousAlchemist



Series: Lucretia Cycle [2]
Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Gen, and how good it is to have supportive friends, basically a kinda lucretia character study in some ways, basically the afterword of the year that she spent alone, in which lucretia gets a fuckin hug okay, in which we discuss the difficulty of having changed when everyone around you has not
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-22
Updated: 2017-06-22
Packaged: 2018-11-17 09:05:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11272308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anonymousAlchemist/pseuds/anonymousAlchemist
Summary: After the longest year of Lucretia's life.The whole mess of the situation comes spilling out of her mouth, getting increasingly more incoherent even though she's talking quietly and she doesn't realize that the others have shaken off the resurrection-brainfog and come over to listen to her, because it's over, the year is over and she survived and the ship survived and everyone on the ship survived and she did it, everything's okay, and oh, there are tears running down her face.





	may my afterimage follow me home

**Author's Note:**

> so this is technically a sequel to "a crack in the heart through which the world spills out" but it can be read as a standalone!  
> i just wanted lucretia to get a fuckin hug and then i wrote *gestures vaguely* all of this. 
> 
> enjoy reading!

Lucretia sinks to her knees and looks at her newly formed friends. She looks back down at her hands, which are being wiped of all the callouses and scars of the last year, the broken nails and scrapes and grime. She has a manicure again, she thinks absently. "I made it," she says, quietly, incredulously. "I made it." She falls back, slumps against the wall in relief like a puppet with its strings snipped. She curls inward, stealing glances through the hands she's brought to her face. Why did she do that?

The whole mess of the situation comes spilling out of her mouth, getting increasingly more incoherent even though she's talking quietly and she doesn't realize that the others have shaken off the resurrection-brainfog and come over to listen to her, because it's over, the year is over and she survived and the ship survived and everyone on the ship survived and she did it, everything's okay, and oh, there are tears running down her face.

"Sorry, I don't know why I'm crying," she says between swipes of her sleeve over her eyes. They're getting wet. Her sinuses and nasal cavity and throat feel like they're being drowned. Every time she blinks, more tears flick off of her eyelashes, leak from the corners of her eyes. Oh, someone is sitting next to her. Oh, it's Magnus on one side and Lup on the other. It's been a year since she's been this close to anyone without trying to hurt them.

"So, we all died, right? Like I just want to clarify, all of us except Luc fucked off the mortal coil?" Taako says. Lup glares at him. "Taako!"  
"What, I'm just trying to make sure!" he says theatrically, even as he flicks his wand to swirl chocolate and milk out of thin air and into a cup that starts to steam. Taako picks up the cup of magic cocoa and holds it out to Lucretia.

It's the first time in a year that anyone has made anything for her.

She starts crying harder, silent tears turning to gasping sobs. This is terrible. This is the first time she's seen her family in a year, and she's in hysterics. She hasn't cried all year. She doesn't cry, ever. Why is she crying now?

Taako looks alarmed. "Oh shit, did I do something wrong? I think I broke her."  
"No," she says, a half-laugh, half-sob. "No you didn't, thank you," she says, and uncurls a little bit to take the cup from him. She sips a little. It's perfect.  
"Hey, where's my cup?" Magnus says, jokingly, and Barry laughs and it's so normal, it could be any night on the Starblaster and she's lived a year without this.

She missed them, she realizes. She missed them so much.

* * *

 

Lucretia's crewmates slip back into the rhythm of the life on the Starblaster quickly. Of course they do; for them it was a brief nap. It's like they never left. The next plane is months away — paradox space is funny like that, some planes only a ten minute hop over, others, an eon and a half. Not that time means anything out here.

They tell her about the stone judges and their judgment over breakfast on the first day. Or at least what they call breakfast. The first meal after liftoff. Taako takes over the kitchen and playfully berates Lucretia for moving all his stuff around. She tells him that if he had wanted her to keep his things in order, he should have used a sensible organizational system. Davenport places a box of tissues next to her silently, and pats her shoulder even though she has stopped crying. Her eyes are still red, though, as she listens to her friends

"It was weird," Barry says. "They accused us of things that didn't sound like anything we've ever done. And I know we've done shit most definitely worthy of judgment."  
"Well, they did list all of our 'sins'" Lup says with air-quotes. "Apparently we've been very naughty."  
"Speak for yourself, I did nothing wrong," Magnus says.  
"Sure, you're flawless," Taako says.  
"Magnus 'Flawless' Burnsides, that's what they call me," Magnus nods.  
"Keep on topic, guys," Davenport says. "Does anyone remember what exactly the stone statues accused us of?"

"Oh, wait, let me get my notebook," Lucretia says. That's protocol: after you do something mission-relevant, you tell Lucretia about it so she can write it down. It's been a year since she's recorded something that's not her personal journal. She had forgotten.

"Hi Fischer," she says, tapping their glass. They pulse reassuringly. "Everyone's back now. You'll see Magnus again, he can make you another duck."

Fischer pulses brighter. Lucretia smiles, sighs. Turns to get a blank notebook. Tears pinprick again at the corners of her eyes, and she's not sure why. She's not sad. She should be ecstatic. She is ecstatic. Her chest feels like it's in a vise.

It was only a year, Lucretia thinks to herself. It shouldn't have affected me so much. She's been in worse situations. It should be like riding a bike. We've spent so much time together, it shouldn't be this hard.

For a second, she thinks about feeding her memories of the last year to Fischer.

Lucretia takes a deep breath. She grabs her notebook and heads back to the kitchen.

The rest of the team is in an argument about what the stone statue-gods were accusing them of. Lucretia listens, and writes down whatever seems relevant between bites of french toast. Eventually the conversation peters out, and Magnus asks her, "So, what happened while we were gone?"

She shrugs. "I already wrote it down." Lucretia doesn't want to talk about what happened. It's over and done, and now things are normal again, or what passes for normal on the ship.

"Okay, Luc," Merle says.

* * *

 

Lucretia was twenty-one when she was selected to go on the mission. She's the youngest of the group, or she was at the beginning of the mission. Not that linear time means all that much anymore, between four different races and a hundred years and hundred or so deaths between the seven of them. Lucretia is eighty-six years old, not counting death-time. If she had stayed home, she would have been a great-grandmother by now.

She was in the first year of her masters when she was chosen to go on the journey — all the humans chosen to go on the mission were young, they didn't know how long the mission would take or what would happen out there. Barry had just finished his second Ph.D., Magnus was only a few years older than her.

Sometimes she would wonder why she was chosen to come. There's a thousand writers out there, people with more experience, people who write faster, people who aren't still in school. Lucretia sometimes wonders what made her special — maybe it's that she knows magic, maybe it's because she was good with hand-to-hand combat, maybe it's because they're getting a two-in-one deal with her because she's also an artist.

Captain Davenport hand-picked the crew. On bad days she thinks she's on the ship because he knew her thesis advisor. On good days, she thinks it's because she's multitalented.

She spent a year alone and hunted and she survived. She tries not to think about it too much. She thinks she knows why she's here. There's iron in her spine that was not there before.

* * *

 

A few days after liftoff, she finds Barry kneeling by the panels she had patched the hole in the hull with wearing a welding helmet and wielding a blowtorch and a toolbox.

"What are you doing?" Lucretia asks, fighting thoughts of the panels blowing out and the air in the ship siphoning out instantly.  
"Just checking over the new panels. You did a real good job, Luc, considering you're self taught," Barry says. It echoes from behind the metal mask. "These are solid welds."  
"Will they hold until the next planet?"  
"They should hold permanently, I'm just smoothing the edges — just in case, y'know?"  
"Let me help," Lucretia says. "Show me how to do it."  
"Sure," Barry says, and gestures to the extra mask lying on the toolbox. She puts it on and opens the toolbox.  
"It took me forever to figure this out," Lucretia confesses. "I had never used a blowtorch, or any of this equipment before, and I was scared of breaking it." Barry nods.  
"It's not intuitive. You find the manuals in my room?"  
"Yeah."  
"Good, I'm glad I didn't toss 'em," he says. "Thanks for fixing her up."

Lucretia smiles underneath her helmet.

* * *

 

"Where'd you learn this?" Magnus asks, sitting heavily down next to her. They've been sparring. It's not something Lucretia used to do, and the muscle tone she built up over the past year has been wiped from existence, but she's learned a couple of tricks and Magnus was eager to learn.

The practice room floor is pleasantly padded, and they have electrolyte-infused beverages. It's not the worst way to spend an afternoon.

"Trial and error, mostly," Lucretia admits. "A lot of people wanted the ship. And me."  
"Like who?"  
Lucretia shrugs. "Pretty much everyone on the planet."  
"Shit. That must have been rough."  
"Yeah," Lucretia says, and feels compelled to say, "I had to move the ship around a lot. And fight people who would try to get on the ship. And people who wanted to take me back to the city to get judged by the Stone Gods. It was...educational."  
"Shit."  
"Yeah."

They sit silently for a moment, sweat cooling on their limbs. Lucretia takes a sip of her drink.

"What was the worst part about the year?" Magnus asks. "Fuck, sorry. You don't have to answer if you don't want to."  
"Not hearing your racket," Lucretia says, trying to smile.  
"I'm sorry I couldn't be there," Magnus says, and it's just like Magnus to apologize for dying.  
"It's okay," Lucretia says, and to her surprise, she finds that it really is okay. It's alright that they left her alone, it wasn't their fault. The miasma of resentment that she felt, that she didn't let herself feel, that's gone. It's okay. "It's not your fault. It wasn't too bad, I got through it."  
"Still," Magnus says. He sets his drink down. "Okay, now show me how you did that takedown again."

* * *

 

She doesn't cry again, after the first day.

 

* * *

After a year where any noise signaled danger, the sound that six people collectively generate is a little overwhelming.

Lucretia's missed hearing her friends around, but it's hard when every thump and click of boot heels on the floor, when every snatch of conversation startles her awake. Lucretia spends a lot of time writing instead of sleeping. Dark circles start purpling beneath her eyes. She takes a lot of catnaps on the couch in the living area, and wakes up to blankets or red IPRE cloaks draped over her, sometimes a cup of chamomile tea or a note telling her that somebody wants her company after she wakes up.

Lup leaves a note one afternoon telling her to come to the lab when she's awake. Lucretia wanders down the hallway – still marveling at how much better they look after the repairs – and knocks on the lab door, which is closed. "Come in!" Lup says, muffled, and Lucretia pushes the door open.

"Hello," Lup says, turning dramatically in her swivel chair. "We've been waiting for you." She's the only one in the room. The lab is a mess of magic artifacts and trinkets, a couple of workbenches and a few desks. Lucretia smiles. "You wanted to see me?"

"Hell yeah I did," Lup says. "Got a present for you." She digs through the detritus of magic junk and knick-knacks on her desk, before pulling out a little case. Lup hands them to Lucretia with a flourish. She opens the case, curious. Inside are two bright pink earplugs.

"I noticed you haven't been sleeping great. They're enchanted," Lup says. "Tap them once for noise canceling, tap them twice for white noise."

Lucretia picks up a foam pellet, inspects it, and squishes one into her left ear. She taps it once. Absolute silence. She taps it twice. The steady thrum of rain on rooftops.

"Thank you," Lucretia says. It's an incredibly thoughtful gift. Lup grins.  
"You're welcome. And hey, if you need to talk or anything, I'm not saying I'm the best person for that, but you know, if you want to," Lup says, trailing off awkwardly. Lucretia smiles at her. "Thanks." Lup shakes her head.  
"No, for real, listen to me. What you did was fucking incredible. We wouldn't be here if you didn't kick that planet's ass." Lup says, pulling Lucretia into a hug. "Seriously. Least I can do."  
"I'm just glad you guys are back," Lucretia says, gripping Lup tightly, feeling the knot inside her heart loosening. Lup is a solid weight, she's real, she's alive. They're all alive.

* * *

 

"Lucretia," Taako says, sauntering onto the deck. "Where the fuck did you put the pepper?"  
"What?" Lucretia asks. Taako rolls his eyes. He's holding a carrot and a magic wand. It's not the weirdest pair of objects she's seen him carry together. She had been sitting against the deck railing, watching paradox space fly by, drawing idly in her sketchbook, when he approached her. It's been a while since she's had time to doodle.  
She wrinkles her nose. "I think I put it in the cabinet above the sink. Or maybe we're out? I'm not sure."  
Taako rolls his eyes. "Okay, that's it, you're coming with me. C'mon."

He turns to leave, and Lucretia gets up, curious.

Taako leads her to the kitchen, where half the cabinets are opened and there are vegetables on the counter and a truly bewildering assortment of utensils and spices. Taako drapes himself dramatically over the back of a barstool.

"I can't find anything, my dude. It's actually starting to get, uh, really annoying."  
"I'm sorry I moved your ingredients around and mildly inconvenienced you while running for my life last year while trying to keep us all from dying for real," Lucretia says acerbically.  
"Aw, I didn't mean it like that, I just wanted you to help me re-arrange the kitchen."  
"Sorry," Lucretia says. Taako shrugs.  
"You've earned a little sarcasm, if y'ask me. I'll make you those cookies you like if you help me move things back?"  
"Okay," Lucretia nods, because it's been a year since she's had the crunchy lavender cookies, and walks over to open another cabinet. Taako opens a drawer and starts taking bottles out.

It's weirdly relaxing, putting things back where they belong. Kind of satisfying. Taako's less high-strung when he's doing kitchen things. He directs her to put boxes of tea and instant coffee into cupboards, bottles of mystery spices into cabinets, containers of pasta on top of the fridge. They find the pepper in the freezer, of all places.

"Why didn't you just transmute some pepper?" Lucretia asks.  
"That's a stopgap, kemosabe. Doesn't change the fact I can't find anything."  
"Sorry I moved all your stuff around."  
Taako smiles, gaptoothed.  
"It's cool, you, my guy, are completely forgiven. Bet you missed having us around, huh?"  
"I did," Lucretia says, and it comes out raw, a confession. "I really fucking missed you guys."

Taako looks slightly disturbed, like he does whenever anyone who isn't Lup has an emotion. He puts the last container on a shelf.

"Well, we're not going anywhere now. Do you want make those cookies with me?"  
"I'd like that," Lucretia says.

* * *

 

When Lucretia was eight and still called Lucy, she thought she was going to grow up to be an author. She liked reading books. Her mom took her to the library every Sunday and she picked out her books for the week and her mom carried them home for her and put them on her nightstand. Lucretia liked reading about brave heroes and clever magicians, and she liked how everything turned out okay in the end. She thought about how when she was a grown up she would write stories like this.

She thought that maybe when she was older, she would like to see an adventure, but she didn't want to be the hero. She didn't think she was brave enough, and she liked quietly reading in the library during recess more than she liked playing Adventure with the other kids, anyway. Adventurers didn't read in libraries, usually, adventurers yelled and ran across the playground and hit each other with sticks that looked a little bit like swords if you squinted at them in the right light.

When Lucretia was eight and still called Lucy, she punched Taylor Reynolds in the face because he wouldn't stop picking on her best friend during lunch.

* * *

 

"You need to teach everyone to fly the Starblaster," she tells Davenport one night during team meeting.

Team meeting, meaning that they throw ideas about stopping the Hunger around and dissect the answers that Merle managed to get from John for the millionth time before spiraling into general banter and dicking around. It's kind of fun. They have snacks, usually. This time, Lucretia cuts the discussion off before it can start. "We have to all know how the ship's controls work."

"Pardon?" Davenport says.

"Crosstraining," Lucretia says firmly. "We can't get caught off guard like last time. I had to figure everything out by myself and things could have, they could have gone so wrong. I didn't, I didn't even know how to start the engine, and if I had been a couple minutes slower..." She trails off a little, looking down at the table so that she doesn't have to see her crewmates' sympathetic faces. She frowns, and looks back up. "We can't let that happen again. Everyone needs to know how to fly the ship, and start the engine, and how to patch holes, at the very least."

General murmurs of agreement around the table. Davenport nods. "You're right."

Lucretia nods back, and lets out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding. "Good."

* * *

 

"I used to think that I was the worst person who could have survived, last year," Lucretia confesses, staring down at the cup of tea that she's made. "I used to think it should have been one of you."

It's late (though time means nothing on the Starblaster, really, time is a construct in paradox space). Lucretia had finally finished editing the journals from the last year. She caught Merle sitting alone in the living room, reading a clerical text, and offered to make him some tea. It's sort of a thing that they do.

"You're the one that got us out of there, all by yourself," Merle points out. "There's no set right or wrong person for any situation, Lucretia. You get faced with challenges in life, and if you're the person who happens to be there, then, well, you're the right person for that particular place and time."

Lucretia shrugs. Merle's attitude toward life is frustratingly accepting of the arbitrary. She admires his faith in the universe. She doesn't think she has the same capability. The world is too large and too much for her to feel so serene. The world feels like a war.

"It was really hard," Lucretia says carefully. It's the first time she's saying so out loud. "It was really hard, and I missed you guys, and I was scared all the time." She looks down at her tea, and back up at Merle.  
"But I fucking did it," Lucretia says, eyes hard-set in satisfaction. Merle laughs appreciatively.

"You did good, Lucretia," he says, patting her leg. "We're all very proud of you."

From another man, this would be patronizing. From Merle, it's utterly sincere.

* * *

 

Months pass. The Starblaster approaches a new plane and planet. They watch the Light of Creation fall through space onto a green continent, and Davenport angles the Starblaster to follow it. They get pretty close, this time, and they land in a lush clearing. Everyone runs around the ship preparing for contact. The ship's doors open.

"I want to lead," Lucretia says, stepping out of the ship. The others raise eyebrows, perk ears in surprise. She was never the first one to volunteer for a landing party. "I can do it," she says, squinting at her crewmates in the planet's midday sunlight. Davenport smiles broadly.

"We never doubted you."

 

**Author's Note:**

> liner notes:  
> I'm not like, trying to write lucretia with ptsd or something bc frankly i'm ill-equipped to write that, but I think that the way people change over time and try and mesh back into the relationships they were in previously is interesting, and there's something interesting in the way that lucretia probably changed for both the better and the worse. griffin said that the crew was proud of her, so im thinking that she became more...assertive? more sure of herself. but that's coupled with, well, not an arrogance, but a sort of...thinking of the greater good and assuming she's the best equipped to lead, which isn't always great. Also lucretia strikes me as someone who would be very stoic about her problems and issues, so this was kind of difficult to write haha.
> 
> i like the idea that Lucretia was chosen to come on the mission because davenport saw that she had leadership potential, even if she never really wanted to use it/thought she could use it.
> 
> I think before this year lucretia didn't know what she was capable of, but if you look at her history she's always been the woman who would turn into madame director.
> 
> also jesus! writing all the characters sure is a lot of distinct personalities, wow, it's hard to get everyone's voices.
> 
>  
> 
> also hey if you liked this tip ya author with a kudos or a comment, or dont! that is entirely up 2 u. 
> 
> if you want more of This Taz Bullshit and wanna talk fandom, hmu @ anonymousalchemist.tumblr.com . girl's gotta build her #brand. also i am desperately lonely.


End file.
